


some fools rush in (some just wait)

by LadyMerlin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (no actual "fake dates" were harmed in the production of this nonsense), Confessions, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Frottage, Happy Ending, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humour, Idiots in Love, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mentions of Matchmaking (Other Characters), Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, Oikawa is Clueless, Smut, Teenage Dorks, attempted sexiness/suaveness, iwaizumi is suffering, unfortunately neither of these idiots are suave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-05-25 12:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14977091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: “I think you’ve been watching too many soap operas,” Makki says, fending off Oikawa’s exploratory chopsticks, looking half like he wants recommendations for said soap operas and half like he doesn’t want to know anything about Oikawa, ever again.“I think if we don’t pay attention, one morning we’ll wake up and you’ll have turned into a cartoon villain,” Mattsun observes, and that’s sadly the most apt observation of the day (so far), and they mull over it in silence.“Anyway,” Oikawa picks up after a (long) beat, still looking worryingly contemplative over the cartoon villain comment, like he’s seriously considering it as a career option, “as I was saying, that means the only person I can fake-date is Iwa-chan.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something with fake dating, because you can pry that trope from my cold dead hands (and maybe not even then), but instead I wrote this. Who even knows anymore *slinks away*
> 
> P.S. amended on 04.07.18, cause I'm a dumbass.

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not really a bad person." Oikawa punctuates his absurd pronouncement with a casual hair-flip.

“Debatable,” Makki coughs, and is ignored. Iwaizumi looks like he wants to nod, but also like he doesn’t want to deal with Oikawa’s tantrum if he does, so he stays still.

“I’d never fake-date someone who might actually fall in love with me. Can you imagine how sad that would be? Some pour soul pining for me while I remain completely oblivious to the effects of my own charms, and all that rending heart-break and tears and angst? I’m not  _so_ mean!” Oikawa looks increasingly rapturous, in direct contrast with what he’s saying.

“I think you’re the worst person I know,” Iwaizumi comments, taking another bite of his combini sandwich. Damn the tantrum, it’s inevitable anyway. He and Oikawa had been up late discussing the upcoming match against Shiratorizawa, and Iwaizumi had known Oikawa would forget to bring lunch the next day. He’d planned to share his lunch with Oikawa but  _hadn’t_  counted on forgetting his own bento, so they’d climbed a fence to get lunch from a combini instead of queueing up at the overpriced school tuckshop. Oikawa had devoured his milk bread and was ogling Makki’s left-over home-made noodles with something resembling greed.

“I think you’ve been watching too many soap operas,” Makki says, fending off Oikawa’s exploratory chopsticks, looking half like he wants recommendations for said soap operas and half like he doesn’t want to know anything about Oikawa, ever again.

“I think if we don’t pay attention, one morning we’ll wake up and you’ll have turned into a cartoon villain,” Mattsun observes, and that’s sadly the most apt observation of the day (so far), and they mull over it in silence.

“Anyway,” Oikawa picks up after a (long) beat, still looking worryingly contemplative over the cartoon villain comment, like he’s seriously considering it as a career option, “as I was saying, that means the only person I can fake-date is Iwa-chan.”

There’s a moment of pin drop silence, so sharp that it pierces even the obliviousness of Oikawa-Planning-World-Domination. Makki looks at Mattsun, and Mattsun looks back at Makki, all capital-L-Looks of capital-I-Importance. Iwaizumi looks at his empty sandwich wrapper and it presumably looks back at him too. “Haha,” he tries, eventually. “ _Funny_.” The word lands in the space between them like an anvil on a soufflé.

“Because Iwa-chan is the only one who’d never fall in love with me, you see?” Oikawa asks, alert to the fact that something isn’t right, unable to figure out exactly what it is he’s stepped in, this time.

“Yeah,” Makki tries, off-beat and a split second too late to be natural. “I don’t see why you have to fake date anyone though. Can’t you just real date someone?”

“No one understands me,” Oikawa laments, nose pointed straight up in the air. He’s fluttering his eyelashes like an idiot, and it  _shouldn’t_ be attractive, really. “I have to do something about my parents before they start sending me to omiais. I saw invitations in the mail the other day, it’s only a matter of time before they start pimping me out.”

“You know they just want the best for you, right?” Mattsun ventures, foraying into the world of logic, reason, and common sense, for once.

“Yeah,” Makki can’t help himself. “Your personality is so shit that if they don’t do something, you’re going to end up dying alone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Oikawa chirps, sounding blithely unconcerned by the smack talk. “If I’m not able to find anyone to marry me, what are the chances Iwa-chan will? And then we can just die alone, together!”

Iwaizumi crumples the sandwich wrapper and drops it into the combini plastic bag which serves as their trash can. Then he turns and leaves without saying a word. His face is carefully blank, but his fingers are clenched in a fist. He doesn’t even say goodbye.

“Was it something I said?” Oikawa asks, sounding genuinely bewildered.

-

“No, seriously, Iwa-chan you  _have_  to help me.”

“No.” Iwaizumi’s tone is resolute, but really, when has he ever been able to refuse Oikawa?

“But Iwa- _chaaaaaan_ ~” Oikawa tries, pulling his name into ten syllables like it’s saltwater taffy in his mouth and Iwaizumi forcefully suppresses the image of candy between Oikawa’s disgustingly pink lips, against his pearly white teeth. Iwaizumi wonders in what other scenario he could make Oikawa say his name like that, all weighty and serious and pleading –

“No,” Iwaizumi says, to himself and to Oikawa, and walks out of the locker room, taking his bag with him. It takes Oikawa three full minutes to untangle himself from his own singlet but by then, Iwaizumi is gone. He didn’t even stick around to laugh at Oikawa’s lack-of-grace like the other guys did.

“But we have practice?” Oikawa asks the empty corridor after stepping out of the locker room. His own voice sounds lonely without Iwaizumi’s deeper tones to back him up. There’s no answer.

-

Coach doesn’t ask where Iwaizumi is, even though Oikawa is fully prepared to lie through his teeth to cover for his best friend. Either Iwaizumi had a legitimate excuse to leave, or someone else had already covered for him.

But Iwaizumi doesn’t have any other friends (Makki and Mattsun don’t count), and Oikawa is fairly certain that something is wrong.

At least that’s what he tells himself when he knocks on Iwaizumi’s front door at 8pm on a Friday night. Iwaizumi wouldn’t miss family dinner, and Oikawa knows his mother makes curry on Friday nights. Oikawa can catch him there.

“Tooru-kun,” Iwaizumi’s mother coos and invites him in, like he’d expected. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” Oikawa replies honestly, “but I’m never too full for Auntie’s curry!” He beams and she beams back. She’s one of the few people - apart from Iwaizumi - who genuinely adores Oikawa. And he adores her right back, this woman who has loved him as much as she loves her own son.

“Come, I’ve made enough. I’m surprised you’re here, though.”

“Oh?” Oikawa asks, toeing off his shoes at the front step. He’s got his own pair of slippers in the Iwaizumi household. They’re blue, and they’ve got little green aliens on them, which he and Iwaizumi spent three entire afternoons painting. The aliens on the right slipper are more scary looking than the ones on the left, which is something Oikawa had been proud of for the longest time (he’s still proud of it).

“Hajime isn’t home yet.”

Oikawa hesitates. He’s eaten with Iwaizumi’s family alone before, of course, but not like this. Not when he’d been expecting Iwaizumi to be there. Unlike with their coach, he doesn’t hesitate to tattle on his best friend to said best friend’s mother. Something is wrong, and if anyone is capable of fixing it, Iwaizumi’s mother is.

Auntie studies him with surprisingly still eyes. She’s normally incredibly light-hearted and mirthful; unexpectedly so, for someone who birthed and raised someone as sober as Iwaizumi, but now she’s serious and it scares him. “I know Tooru-kun. I also know what’s wrong, but I think this is something you may have to figure out yourself. Don’t worry. I know where my wayward son is. He’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Come. Eat.” Oikawa eats obediently, but can’t stop worrying.

-

The next morning, he remembers he’d forgotten to tell his parents where he was going.

In his defence, Iwaizumi’s Home is his Home too, and sometimes he goes there on autopilot to meet Auntie and Uncle as though they’re actually related to his parents (which they’re not). Thankfully his parents know that too and his mum had called Iwaizumi’s mum first thing, and once they’d established that one Son was in bed and the other Son had fallen asleep on the sofa after getting home late at night, they’d gotten talking.

This is how Oikawa discovers that the omiais are for his nee-san, who’d actually  _asked_  for them. This is a massive fucking relief, and the first person Oikawa wants to tell is Iwaizumi.

 _Iwa-chan_ , in a household full of Iwaizumis.

Unfortunately,  _Iwa-chan_  has been in a locked bathroom for half an hour, and not once has Oikawa heard the sound of water running. Still, not for nothing has Oikawa spent six months learning to pick locks.

When he finally gets through the door, Iwaizumi isn’t doing normal bathroom things like shaving or showering or even using the toilet. Instead he’s sitting in a corner on the floor, head resting on top of his folded knees, arms wrapped around his legs, keeping them curled in. He’s wearing his soft sleep pants, the ones which cling to the curve of his hips and ass and don’t keep any secrets at all, but he doesn’t look like he’s slept much, shadows smudged beneath his dark brown eyes.

Oikawa drops to his own knees beside Iwaizumi, ignoring the ominous twinges of pain.

“Iwa-chan, what’s wrong?” Oikawa asks, and his voice is more serious than he ever remembers it being. Iwaizumi is his bedrock – his solid ground. Iwaizumi never has problems like Oikawa has problems; Iwaizumi is always stable and certain and  _sure_. But that doesn’t mean that Oikawa doesn’t want to help him, now that he does need help.

“Oikawa, I should have guessed you’d be the one sleeping in my bed,” Iwaizumi sounds tired and resigned, and Oikawa’s panic amps up. Iwaizumi never sounds resigned. Resigned to Oikawa’s nonsense, yes, but not like this, not in a  _sad_  way.

He wriggles his fingers and slips them into Iwaizumi’s hand, so it’s like they’re holding hands, and squeezes. “Iwa-chan, please let me help you. You’re the most important person in the world, and I don’t want you to be sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Iwaizumi replies, but it’s obviously a lie, and he doesn’t meet Oikawa’s eyes.

“Okay,” Oikawa says, because yes he’s never dealt with something like this before but that doesn’t mean he  _can’t_ , and gets to his feet, not releasing Iwaizumi’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Iwaizumi stands up and slips his hand out of Oikawa’s hand, which suddenly feels a lot colder and smaller. “Where do you want to go?” he asks, and he’s clearly trying to pull himself together, but Oikawa’s having none of that.

He pulls Iwaizumi into his arms and snuggles him for a bit. For someone as brutish as Iwaizumi, his best friend sure is a great hugger. Iwaizumi’s hands on his back are hesitant, but familiar, and Oikawa doesn’t let go until Iwaizumi’s shoulders are less tense and he’s let go of the tension in his spine.

“Well Iwa-chan, it’s Saturday so we have no school, and the sun is out and the birds are chirping, it’s a glorious day! Let’s get ice cream!” It’s actually a fantastic idea and Oikawa is a little impressed with himself for coming up with it on the fly, but he’s even more pleased with the way Iwaizumi relaxes to hear it. He still doesn’t look alright, but ice cream never hurt.

Auntie is making breakfast but she doesn’t stop them from leaving, and even drops a fond little kiss on Oikawa’s head the same way she does for Iwaizumi. Once they’re out of the house, Oikawa giggles like he’s gotten away with something – he doubts she’d have let them go if she’d known they were going for ice cream. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes but doesn’t dispute Oikawa’s assessment.

-

The ice cream is fantastic, and so are the crepes that go with it.

Iwaizumi goes for a tower of matcha ice-cream while Oikawa opts for more modern flavours like bubble-gum and cotton-candy and Nutella, all swirled together in a cone. By the time they’re done, they’re both shivering and a little sticky, and definitely verging on a sugar-high. There’s whipped cream on Oikawa’s nose and he goes cross-eyed trying to lick it off, but instead of making Iwaizumi laugh he just stares at Oikawa like he’s not sure what he’s seeing, like he can’t quite believe what’s in front of his own eyes.

It’s a very intense look, and not one Oikawa thinks has ever been directed at him before.

It makes him a little nervous, so he swipes the whipped cream off with a thumb and licks it off, but when Iwaizumi looks away it doesn’t feel any less intense. He can feel the weight of Iwaizumi’s regard on his shoulders even though Iwaizumi isn’t physically looking at him anymore, and it’s – it’s different. It’s not funny, but not in a bad way. It’s good-serious, like volleyball.

Oikawa wonders what that means.

-

They’re quite boring for seventeen year-olds, so neither of them are too surprised when they simultaneously turn towards the climbing trail which they usually use for weekend exercise. It’s more of a relaxed walk than any serious exercise, but it’s still nice.

They’re full and jittery from the refined sugars and definitely need to work it off, so they amble up the gentle slope, stopping every now and again for Oikawa to take selfies and for Iwaizumi to take dramatic panoramic landscape shots which resemble the ones he’s been taking since they started using this trail literal years ago. Oikawa only bombs one of them, which is practically restrained, for him.

The familiarity is nice too, and soothing. Iwaizumi stays a step behind him as he always does, just in case Oikawa’s knee gives out and he tumbles backwards. It’s only happened once, but he thinks Iwaizumi has never forgotten the heart-stopping fear. Objectively speaking, Oikawa wouldn’t have gone too far – it’s barely a thirty-degree incline and they hadn’t even been going very fast, but Oikawa had been scared until Iwaizumi caught him safely from behind, strong arms wrapped firmly around Oikawa’s waist, arresting his fall before it even began.

That feels like their relationship condensed into just once sentence. The thought of losing it – well. It feels like falling all over again. 

-

At the top of the trail is a small park, where no one ever goes during the daytime. At night it’s a popular haunt for couples, because no one can be bothered to enforce public decency laws up there, but at three in the afternoon – even on a Saturday – it’s empty. It’s not much of a park, really, just a bit of wild grass and a small pagoda-like shelter overlooking the slope, and a vending machine that only stocks lukewarm Pocari Sweat. There’s a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves, and it’s deliciously quiet.

Oikawa feels his sweat beginning to dry as he stands there and looks over the edge. It looks the same way it has always looked, every single time they came up here together. He suddenly feels like he’s all of eight years old again, and they’ve escaped Oikawa’s sister to come up here alone for the first time. It feels like just yesterday, and they’d sprawled on the grass and watched the clouds go by for hours until his Nee-san had screamed at them for running away from her.

Iwaizumi comes to stand beside him and he’s just a little bit shorter than Oikawa, just enough that Oikawa can see the top of his head. Oikawa feels such a sudden surge of affection for his best friend that he can’t stop himself from reaching out and putting his arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Iwaizumi goes tense for a moment and then relaxes when Oikawa rests a little bit more of his weight on his shoulders; his knees lock and his back straightens to brace for it, like it’s something he’s used to. Oikawa wonders how often he’s actually touched Iwaizumi like this; whether Iwaizumi has borne his physical weight before or whether the weight his best friend has to bear is more metaphorical than anything else, though the thought hurts.

Oikawa drags his fingers down the nape of Iwaizumi’s neck and pushes them into Iwaizumi’s hair, even though he’s all sweaty and mussed. It doesn’t matter. There is no one he knows more intimately than he does Iwaizumi. No part of Iwaizumi is disgusting, no matter what he says most other times.

“I don’t want this to end,” he whispers and almost instantly Iwaizumi sags again, and his eyes go a little bit dimmer. Oikawa honestly doesn’t understand what he’s said to cause it, but he hates himself for it anyway.

“Me either,” Iwaizumi replies, “but I can’t help it.” A spike of panic goes deep into Oikawa’s belly.

“What do you mean, Iwa-chan?” he asks, turning to look at Iwaizumi. His arm slides off Iwaizumi’s back and he instantly misses the contact.

“I can’t tell if you genuinely don’t know, or whether you’re pretending to not know to discourage me from saying anything.” Iwaizumi is smiling but it’s not a happy smile. He looks all tense and achy the way it feels when Oikawa is trying not to cry, and when he swallows it’s audible like his throat is dry.

“Uhm,” Oikawa replies, but there are no other words. Apparently something else has been going on and he hasn’t even realised it. It’s not often that Oikawa misses something – especially not if it’s something big like this. “I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about, Iwa-chan, I'm sorry.”

Iwaizumi huffs but again, it’s not a laugh. “Figures that this is the one thing you’d be clueless about.”

Oikawa opens his mouth to protest, but Iwaizumi interrupts before he can, which is good because Oikawa has no idea what he's supposed to say. “Just – remember that you’re my best friend, okay? And that I love you, no matter what, even if you don’t love me back.” And before Oikawa can reply to this frankly shocking declaration, Iwaizumi cups his jaw with one large hand, and kisses him.

-

The entire world goes quiet and still when Iwaizumi’s lips touch his, and the buzzing in his head drops into a dull hum. In the long second it takes for Oikawa to process that this is a kiss –  _a kiss!_  – Iwaizumi is gone, and even though he’s only inches away it feels like a gulf between them that no human being could ever bridge.

Oikawa fumbles for words but they keep falling out of his mouth before he can piece them into any sort of coherence, and Iwaizumi is still watching him carefully like he’s afraid Oikawa is going to vanish into thin air if he even blinks.

“You don’t have to fake-date me,” Oikawa hears himself say, as if from a distance. He doesn’t know where the words come, but he knows – well. They’re not the words he wants to be saying.

Iwaizumi blinks but doesn’t move, like he’s giving Oikawa a chance to explain. Oikawa grasps for a moment and then tries again. “I really don’t want any omiais,” and that’s really the final proof he needs that grades don’t mean anything, that he’s obviously the biggest idiot to walk to Earth. Shock flashes across Iwaizumi’s eyes and then fades into comprehension, and then the same sad-resignation Oikawa has been trying to chase away all day.

“I see,” he says, and no, he doesn’t. He’s clearly not understood what Oikawa was trying to say, because this should be a happy thing, and instead he’s getting up and pulling his hand out of Oikawa’s while he’s still struggling for words in the nuclear dead-zone his brain has become.

“Iwa-chan—” Oikawa tries, but Iwaizumi shakes his head.

“No, Oikawa. It’s okay. You’re entitled to not - well. I understand. There’s no obligation. We will always be friends, right?” he tries a wan little smile and it’s the palest imitation of joy Oikawa has ever seen. “Maybe just, give me a little time? I need to, uh. I need some time.”

 _No,_  Oikawa wants to yell,  _he hasn’t understood anything!_ If anyone’s the idiot here, it’s Oikawa himself, but he can’t even think, can’t even breathe, the only thing in his brain is the soft touch of Iwaizumi’s lips against his own and the softness of his hand in Oikawa’s. By the time he finds the protest, buried somewhere beneath the internal screaming, Iwaizumi is gone.

Oikawa sits at the park bench, fingers pressed to his mouth, and thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry. It gets better. I guarantee happy endings, in more than one sense of the phrase.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this was like herding cats; nothing went the way I wanted it to. In my defence, this was written mostly while watching the Yuri!!! on Concert on 1 July 2017. I make no promises/guarantees as to my emotional/mental state.

The same trick won’t work on Iwaizumi twice, so Oikawa doesn’t bother going to Auntie that night.

Someone wiser would probably have slept on it, might have given himself some time to think, and to give Iwaizumi a break, but Iwaizumi had always been the wiser one. Instead, Oikawa hides in the hydrangea bushes outside Iwaizumi’s house until he’s sure that Iwaizumi is safely tucked in bed. Iwaizumi's cat, Hana-chan, crawls under the bush and almost gives him away with her loud demands for attention, but he appreciates the company anyway. It keeps his thoughts from consuming him alive.

Right now, Iwaizumi probably thinks he’s lost Oikawa’s friendship, and that his feelings are unrequited. Iwaizumi leaves his windows open at night. These two facts converge to tell him that he can’t let Iwaizumi go a second longer without knowing that Oikawa loves him back, in more ways than one – in  _all_ the ways.

When the lights go off that evening, Oikawa only waits a few minutes before climbing up the wooden trellis beneath Iwaizumi’s window, praying that Iwaizumi’s father has nailed it down properly. It would be impossible to explain a broken arm to Coach or any of his teachers this close to exam season. Thankfully the wooden structure holds and as expected, the windows are wide open to let the cool night breeze in. Oikawa leaves his dirty shoes on the windowsill before climbing through, careful to avoid the splintery bits he knows are there. 

“Should have known you wouldn’t leave it alone.”

Oikawa is grateful Iwaizumi waited for his feet to touch the floor before speaking, else he might have gone straight back through the window like Hana-chan did when she was scared.

“Have you ever known me to leave anything alone, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks warmly, allowing his voice to curl around his name, like it’s something precious. There is a small exasperated huff, but no rebuttal.

When Oikawa looks up, Iwaizumi is propped up on his elbows, looking back at him, completely solemn. Even in the darkness, he can feel Iwaizumi’s gaze on him like it’s a physical thing, like fingertips running down his spine. Lying down, Iwaizumi looks defeated, from the curve of his shoulder to the way his face is tilted downwards, away from Oikawa. 

Oikawa sucks in a deep breath and musters his courage. Iwaizumi has already been brave once today; now it’s his turn. He takes one step after another until he’s standing right at the foot of Iwaizumi’s bed. Iwaizumi’s feet are sticking out from underneath the blanket, but he’s also wearing socks, like the loser he is.

Oikawa wraps his trembling fingers around Iwaizumi’s feet, cold even through the knitted fabric. It’s not romantic or anything, not really. He just feels close to Iwaizumi, because this isn’t the way friends touch; this isn’t casual. Iwaizumi doesn’t pull away but he wriggles his toes, and Oikawa can feel the click in the joint where Iwaizumi broke his big toe in middle school, from kicking a guy who'd been bullying him.

Looking back, that's how it's always been, though. Iwaizumi protecting him. Oikawa wonders if he'd just gone blind, and no one had noticed. It's so obvious in hindsight.

“You didn’t let me speak, earlier,” Oikawa says, trying to keep the accusation from his voice. Iwaizumi stiffens and pulls his feet away, so Oikawa thinks he must not have succeeded.

“I understood what you were trying to say. I don’t even know why you’re here, now.” Oikawa's eyes have adjusted to the darkness in the room and he can see that Iwaizumi isn’t looking at him again, that he’s deliberately looking away, creating distance between them where there should be none.

“That’s the problem, though. You didn’t understand at all. Firstly,” Oikawa starts, building up steam to the little speech he’s been composing in his head ever since he crawled under the hydrangea bush a couple of hours ago. He even rehearsed it on Hana-chan once before she got bored and went away. “First of all, even if I didn’t love you back, do you honestly think I’d do anything to hurt my best friend in the whole world, Iwa-chan,  _hmm_?” he asks, drawing out the syllables in the most obnoxious way he can. Now that he’s no longer touching Iwaizumi, he’s just standing there awkwardly at the foot of his bed. He doesn’t know what to do with his arms so he crosses them in front of his chest and hopes it doesn't come off as defensive.

He’s expecting Iwaizumi to huff and acknowledge the point. Oikawa doesn’t think he’s ever cared for anyone as much as he cares for Iwaizumi, and by this point it’s obvious. He’s trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t work. If anything, the tension ramps up. 

“If you didn’t love me? You mean—” Iwaizumi’s voice cracks a little, along with Oikawa’s heart when it finally occurs to him how much his friend has been hurting all this while, on his own.

That’s when he gives in to the impulse to crawl into bed and slide under the covers beside Iwaizumi. The mattress is a single and really not big enough for two leggy teenagers, but they’ve done this before, and if Oikawa has his way, they’ll be doing it again.

Under the covers – which are also too small and leave their backs exposed on either side – their knees knock together when Oikawa turns to face Iwaizumi, whose face is to Oikawa as familiar as his own, every scar and pockmark and wrinkle studied and adored. Iwaizumi smells like toothpaste and soap and clean laundry, but Oikawa doesn’t want to know what he smells like. Ideally like hydrangeas, because at least that’s romantic, and not like twelve-hour-old-ice-cream and sweat, though he doesn’t like his chances.

Still, he can’t help but smile and cup Iwaizumi’s cheek the same way Iwaizumi had cupped his own, on the hilltop earlier.

“I have always loved you, Iwa-chan. More than like a friend, I thought. Like a brother, but more. People talked about school friends growing apart but I could never I imagine it, I knew I always wanted you there. I’ve never wanted to date anyone, because why would I? I was never even lonely. I just never realised that I've been dating you all along, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi is silent but he’s still looking at Oikawa, and Oikawa feels the nervous tension beginning to build in his stomach. “And the omiais?” he asks, after a long beat of silence.

Oikawa shakes his head, sinking deeper into Iwaizumi’s ridiculous pillow. “None of them were for me. I meant to tell you before I got distracted, I found out this morning that my sister had asked for them.”

“So earlier when you said—”

“I was trying to say that I don’t want you to  _fake_ -date me, because I’d much rather you  _date-_ date me, for real.” Oikawa isn’t sure how he got the words out so cleanly, because there’s a huge part of him that is genuinely terrified, and they’re so close now that there’s nothing he can hide from Iwaizumi. There’s  _another_ part of him, though, which remembers that Iwaizumi is his best friend, has  _been_  his best friend for the best part of two decades. Iwaizumi hits him and shouts at him on a pretty regular basis, but when it comes down to it, Iwaizumi has never hurt him deliberately, and his slip-ups are pretty rare too. He knows he is safest when he is with Iwaizumi, which is why he doesn’t understand how this realisation took him so long.

“So what was all that this morning, about me being the only person you could fake-date?” And okay, he kind of understands why Iwaizumi is pushing this line of questioning, but it doesn’t make it any less awkward for him. Oikawa shrugs, more than a little embarrassed. Iwaizumi's fingers twitch like he wants to touch Oikawa but doesn't dare, so Oikawa does it for him, bringing Iwaizumi's worn hands and strong fingers up to his own cheeks.

“Everyone is always a little bit flustered around me. It’s how I know that they're interested in me, or at the least attracted to me. I can understand that, even if I don't reciprocate. I have _always_ loved you, Iwa-chan, but you never showed any of those signs. I just thought it meant that you could – would – never feel anything for me. It really was the safest option - safer than putting myself out there and making you hate me.”

“Dumbass,” Iwaizumi whispers, but fondly, like it’s a pet-name instead of an insult. It might as well be. His fingers trace soft circles on Oikawa’s cheeks. “I could never hate you. I’m not flustered because I’m used to these feelings. I’ve been feeling this for a long time, Tooru.” Iwaizumi's hands slide from his cheeks up into his hair, stroking it gently like he would a cat. 

Oikawa shivers at the sound of his own first name, at the intimacy of the touch, and then covers his face with his hands because he can feel himself beginning to blush. It only occurs to him how telling his actions are when Iwaizumi huffs a laugh, and Oikawa remembers that the room is dark and Iwaizumi wouldn’t have been able to see anything anyway.

“Don’t tease me, Iwa-chan,” he whispers back, unsure why he’s whispering when he doesn’t think even a hurricane could wake Auntie and Uncle at this time of night - morning? Iwaizumi doesn’t respond, only touches Oikawa’s face again, drawing his fingertips down Oikawa's cheeks. His eyes flutter shut when Iwaizumi starts tracing Oikawa’s lips. This isn’t how friends touch either, but Oikawa has never felt more alive.

“If I kiss you, will you run away again?”

Oikawa’s eyes snap open and his jaw drops, words surging to protest the gross mischaracterisation of what had happened earlier that afternoon (he hadn’t run _anywhere_ , thank you very much), but Iwaizumi doesn’t let him.

Instead Iwaizumi leans in and presses his lips against Oikawa’s mouth, first against his upper lip and then his lower. For all that they’re stunningly attractive seventeen year-olds, Oikawa thinks, this is still new, and they’re both more than a little scared of the implications of it; the weight of everything riding on this chance that they’re taking.

Oikawa shoves all other thoughts from his head and kisses back as best he can. It's mostly chaste and sweet, and probably looks nothing like the way people make out on TV, but this doesn't bother either of them, he thinks. This is electric as it is, with the intimacy of Iwaizumi's hand on his shoulder and his own fingers clenched tight in Iwaizumi's soft sleeping shirt between them, and the slide of their lips together. Beneath the glo-in-the-dark-sticker-sky, Oikawa melts into Iwaizumi, shuffling closer until they're actually breathing the same air, and their knees and legs are interlocked.

Surprisingly, Iwaizumi is the first one to open his mouth. Oikawa tentatively dips his tongue into Iwaizumi's mouth, where he's hot and wet and soft, and it gives him confidence when Iwaizumi lets him in and doesn't bite his tongue off.

Oikawa explores Iwaizumi’s mouth, delicately tangles their tongues together, can’t bring himself to pull away even when it gets harder to breathe. Iwaizumi sinks back into his pillow and Oikawa follows him, spreading his thighs to straddle Iwaizumi’s waist, hands flat on Iwaizumi’s chest between them. Iwaizumi’s hands go around him to slide down his back, fingers curving to cup his ass, and the touch shivers running all the way through Oikawa’s body and down to his toes. When Iwaizumi uses his leverage to bring their hips together, Oikawa squeaks in surprise at the resulting jolt of pleasure. He hadn’t even realised he was getting hard.

That’s when Iwaizumi takes over, sliding his tongue into Oikawa’s mouth instead. He’s much more assertive than Oikawa was, and infinitely more confident, and Oikawa is helpless to do anything but let Iwaizumi plunder his mouth. Even though Oikawa is on top, Iwaizumi is clearly in charge. The way he slots their mouths together mimics the way their hips are interlocked, and when Oikawa feels Iwaizumi’s erection brush his own through their clothes, he can’t help but squirm.

Of course, that only makes things worse, because Iwaizumi doesn’t let go of his grip on Oikawa’s ass, and any movement he makes only pushes their hips together.  He still can't catch his breath, because of the way Iwaizumi's tongue is curling around his own, the way his teeth are pressing into his lips with the slightest threat of pressure. Oikawa would have thought Iwaizumi was unaffected too, if he hadn’t felt Iwaizumi’s hips twitching beneath his, the slightest break in between kisses.

That’s what gives him the courage to try again, squirming as hard as he can, grinding into Iwaizumi’s erection with intent. Iwaizumi’s breath stutters and the kiss goes lax when Iwaizumi's jaw drops, giving Oikawa the chance to pull himself together before he embarrasses himself.

“Too fast?” Iwaizumi asks when they've stopped panting, sounding a little guilty. He moves as if he wants to put more distance between them, but Oikawa doesn’t give him a chance.

He slides his hand into Iwaizumi’s hand and tangles their fingers together, then leans back to sit on Iwaizumi’s hips again so he can look at Iwaizumi’s face. Iwaizumi’s free hand comes to rest on Oikawa’s hip, but it’s almost absent-minded, like he didn’t quite mean to. His entire attention is focused on Oikawa’s face.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, as condescendingly as he can manage, “In substance we’ve been dating for a terribly long time. You can believe me when I say, nothing we do is too fast for me. That _doesn’t_ mean that I want to come in my pants at two in the morning when I don’t even have spare clothes to wear. Everyone would know what we’d been doing if I went down for breakfast tomorrow wearing your clothes. Could you look your mother in her eyes if she knew what you’d done to my poor, virginal—”

“Okay, _okay_ ,” Iwaizumi laughs as he covers Oikawa’s mouth to stop the flow of words. “Moment killed, hard-on banished, well done Tooru,” he says, but he’s joking, surely, because Oikawa can still feel him through their clothes. He sits back a little harder and makes his point without saying any words. Iwaizumi hisses and pinches his hip in retaliation, making him smirk.

“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan. That doesn’t mean we can’t do anything once our clothes are off.” Even in the darkness he can see Iwaizumi’s pupils dilate, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“How about this,” he says, as an idea comes to him out of the blue. “You let me sit right here,” Oikawa punctuates his words with a little wriggle of his hips, “and watch while I touch myself. If you manage to keep your hands to yourself until I’m done, I’ll use my mouth on you. I mean, I’m sure you’ve always wanted to shut me up like this, since you’ve had a crush on me for—”

“Shut up, shut  _up_ ,” Iwaizumi hisses, dragging Oikawa down into a kiss which is at least as brutal and demanding as the ones earlier. It’s only a matter of time before Oikawa’s lips are puffy and bruised from this, but he doesn’t have any complaints about it, at all. “God, you just keep talking and _talking_ , do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

Oikawa smirks and rolls his hips again, revelling in the way Iwaizumi’s fingers dig even deeper into the soft flesh of his ass. “Have you ever done that before?” Iwaizumi asks, and Oikawa shakes his head, not even bothering to lie. He’d never admit to anyone else that he’s so inexperienced, but Iwaizumi deserves to know, at least so he can temper his expectations. “You sure you want to try?” Iwaizumi asks again, and Oikawa nods. “Okay. I’ll be careful with you,” Iwaizumi says decisively, like he’s reassuring both Oikawa and himself.

Oikawa laughs. “Iwa-chan, you’re getting ahead of yourself. What if you can’t keep your hands to yourself? Don’t assume I’m going to make this so easy on you.” With that he sits back up and pulls his shirt off, unbuttoning his jeans and kicking them off as smoothly as he can, using hands against Iwaizumi’s chest to keep himself steady. His clothes land unceremoniously on the ground, save for his boxers, through which Iwaizumi can see _everything_. “You may want to take off your clothes too, Iwa-chan. I don’t want your laundry to be too difficult tomorrow.”

Iwaizumi snarls and yanks his t-shirt off, leaving his short hair mussed against his pillow. “I’m keeping my pants on. I don’t trust you to not use any dirty tricks to get out of using your mouth.”

“Why,” Oikawa says slyly, “I’d have thought you wanted me to _use_ dirty tricks, Iwa-chan,” and it’s not the best come-back, but it’s the best he can do given that his brains are about to leak out of his head from the heat. He’s nervous and his heart is pounding, but he doesn’t want to stop. He wants to feel Iwaizumi’s eyes on him, _adoring_ him. It gives him courage.

Somehow Iwaizumi seems to sense his nerves anyway. “You sure you want to do this?”

Oikawa musters his courage and nods. There’s no sexy way to remove his underwear while sitting down but Oikawa tries anyway. When he pulls his boxers down to his knees, he forces himself to ignore the way his cock stands up, bobbing at attention even in the cool night air. It’s a blessing that the room is dark, but even then he can feel Iwaizumi’s gaze on him. He drops the damp boxers to a side and sits down again, suppressing the urge to cover himself with his hands.

He ducks his head, making only fleeting eye-contact before looking away. “Remember, Iwa-chan, no touching, okay?”

“Please call me Hajime, Tooru.” It’s as much an agreement as he’s going to get.

Oikawa nods, and then closes his eyes. It’s easier that way, actually. He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them before rolling his right nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He’s not super sensitive there, but this is his usual routine; what he does when he wants to pleasure himself in the privacy of his own bed. This is the most intimate he can imagine being without actually touching Iwaizumi.

With his eyes closed he can pretend he has Iwaizumi’s hands on him, so he does. He rolls his fingers into a pinch hard enough to sting and doesn’t even notice when he draws his lower lip between his teeth. His lips are already sore from kissing, so they hurt just a little bit, in the best possible way. He pinches his own nipple until it’s stiff and pointy before turning his attention to other parts of his anatomy.

He tries to imagine how Iwaizumi would touch him, with lingering hands down his chest and his belly, perhaps with fingers in his mouth, and he replicates it with his eyes closed, playing along to the visual in his head. He’s so taken in by his own fantasy that he even inhales sharply when his fingers wrap around his own cock.

It’s mirrored by a quick gasp from Iwaizumi, and Oikawa has to fight to keep from opening his eyes.

He can’t help but worry that if he breaks out of his fantasy, he’ll be too nervous to continue; the reality of Iwaizumi too much to handle. He focuses back on his cock in his hand, flesh firm and familiar, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He wants to put on some sort of show but normally he doesn’t bother with that, just gets right to it. It seems perfunctory and unimpressive but he doesn’t know what else to do, and his back is starting to ache a little from how he’s hunched over. So he sits up straight, stretches a little, and reaches down to prop himself against the futon beneath Iwaizumi. He must have misjudged, because instead of touching rumpled fabric he touches warm skin, and both of them twitch. He decides to go with it, instead of drawing back and trying again. He can feel Iwaizumi’s pulse beneath his skin and it’s reassuring in its speed.

Jerking himself off is easy. He’s pretty hard, and the situation is plenty arousing. He’s just about to lick his palm for some moisture when he hears the click of a bottle cap. “L-lube?” Iwaizumi asks in a shaking voice, and Oikawa can feel the tremble of it all the way down his chest. He nods and holds his palm open between them, eyes still closed. The lube is cold when it hits his palm, and there’s a little too much of it, but again the signs of Iwaizumi’s nervousness do more good than harm. He doesn’t bother warming it up – because that would mean lifting his other hand from Iwaizumi’s chest, and he doesn’t want to break that point of contact - before using it to slick his cock, making everything easy and sweet.

He hiccups at the first stroke and pulls his lip between his teeth again, worrying at it to stop himself from releasing anymore embarrassing noises. Iwaizumi is absolutely silent, and the only sound in the room is the slick of Oikawa’s palm against his bare skin. “Hajime,” he whispers when he accidentally squeezes too hard on one stroke, a twist of his wrist sending pleasure ratcheting through his veins.

“Shit,” Iwaizumi whispers back, “holy shit, Tooru.”

Though Iwaizumi had no way of knowing it, to Oikawa, the sound of his name in Iwaizumi’s voice is devastating. Oikawa whimpers and curls into himself, stroking himself even faster. He can feel himself getting harder, dripping from the tip, presumably onto Iwaizumi’s bare skin. The air between them is thick and hot and salty.

“Hajime, please say my name,” he finds himself whispering, begging really, and it should be embarrassing but –

“God, Tooru, you’re so beautiful, I really want to touch you, my _darling_ ,” Iwaizumi’s voice is as intense as a touch, and Oikawa finds himself shivering and whining. He’s so wet that he’s probably making a mess, but he can’t bring himself to stop, he’s  _close_. He’s leaning so far forward that he’s probably blocking Iwaizumi’s view, but he can’t help it, he’s about to vibrate straight out of his skin. He presses his face into Iwaizumi’s chest and wishes he’d never imposed any conditions on their first time. Now, he wants _everything_.

He shivers, imagining how good it would feel if Iwaizumi took him into his arms and held him now; aches from how bad he wants it. His grip is stuttering, pleasure spiking through his nerves, making his fingers weak. He has to focus to keep himself going, even though he's coming apart at the seams, just a bundle of tension and pleasure and sensation loosely wrapped in skin.

“Fuck this,” he hears Iwaizumi say, and then his arms are wrapped around Oikawa’s back and he’s being rolled onto his side, turned so that he’s facing Iwaizumi. In surprise he blinks his eyes open and it’s more overwhelming than he’d ever fathomed. Iwaizumi is mere inches from him, and he’s looking at Oikawa with heated intensity, and his hands are superhot against Oikawa’s skin, and Oikawa knows he's losing his grip on the situation. He doesn't have the presence of mind to care. 

Iwaizumi wraps his hand around Oikawa’s cock, fingers pressed against Oikawa's own hang. When he strokes, their combined grip is tight and steady. It’s all Oikawa can do to press his face into Iwaizumi’s neck and hope Iwaizumi doesn’t notice how ugly he looks when he’s coming.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Iwaizumi whispers almost like he’s reading Oikawa’s thoughts, and it only takes another moment or two of firm strokes and whispered praise before Oikawa goes over the brink and falls to pieces in Iwaizumi’s hands.

It takes a full minute before Oikawa stops seeing sparks, and he thinks if his face hadn’t been pressed into Iwaizumi’s neck, he’d have bitten a hole clear through his bottom lip. He’s still shaking when he pulls back, and he tries to smirk but he thinks it only comes off as hopelessly besotted. “Let me suck you off, Hajime,” he whispers, wanting it even though he’s not sure his own knees are steady enough to hold him up.

Iwaizumi huffs and Oikawa can feel his breath against his face. “I broke the rules, remember?”

Oikawa shakes his head. “They were nonsense rules and anyway, I _want_ to,” he says, because he really does. He wants it so badly he’s aching for it, ready to beg for the closeness of Iwaizumi inside him, for just a  _taste_. 

Iwaizumi laughs again and unwraps his fingers from around Oikawa’s cock, deliberately smearing come against his skin. Oikawa can’t even find it in himself to complain about the mess, it's just insanely _hot_. “If someone had told me that one day you’d ask to suck me off and I’d say no, I – well. I don’t know what I’d have thought, Tooru, _god_.”

“Do you not want it?” Oikawa asks, even though he’s fairly certain that’s not the case. Still, he has been wrong before.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just that I – well,” Iwaizumi trails off and pulls Oikawa’s hand a short distance to the front of his pants, where Oikawa can feel a large wet patch and not much else. “It was enough, earlier.”

The thought of Iwaizumi coming untouched is so flattering that Oikawa doesn’t even want to tease. He just smiles at Iwaizumi and hopes he understands just how gone Oikawa is. He’s still twitching a little, and it doesn’t stop until Iwaizumi pulls him closer and presses them skin to skin. When Oikawa laughs he can hear his own voice trembling.

“Hajime, my god, what was _that_?” he asks when he can finally find the words. Iwaizumi doesn’t reply, drawing him into a soft kiss instead, a simple press of lips against his own, then against his cheek and his jaw and his forehead.

“No clue,” Iwaizumi whispers after a long moment, but his hands are shaking too. “We’ll just have to try it out one more time to see if this happens again. Give me fifteen minutes.”

It’s a come-on, a pick-up line, so unexpected from Iwaizumi that Oikawa can’t stifle the laugh that bubbles out. “Just once?” he replies, because he’s always been better at flirting than Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi covers his face and groans, and Oikawa can’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe I’m in love with you, Trashykawa.”

Oikawa squirms further into Iwaizumi’s arms, uncaring of his own nudity and the mess between them, feeling warm and glowing like he’s swallowed the entire sun. “I love you too, Hajime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a really rough month. Send love, please.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure I've written like three Iwaoi fics almost exactly like this, but y'know what? I don't even care. Comments & Kudos sustain me when nothing else does! Send love pls <3
> 
> P.S. the title comes from a song called “The Love Language” by Heart To Tell.


End file.
